


Another Side of the Sky

by MoragMacPherson



Series: Tempus Frangit [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-26
Updated: 2010-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoragMacPherson/pseuds/MoragMacPherson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A portal between dimensions opens and another woman materializes inside the TARDIS.  AU after "Family of Blood" for Doctor Who, and for "The Gift" for BtVS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The darkness of space shimmered and glittered green, yellow, blue and violet, simultaneously beautiful and disturbing. “What did you say this is?”

“Wish I knew exactly, Martha. It’s sort of a loose string in the fabric of the universe. A snag. Like something’s pulling on the other side.”

“Got a pair of scissors?”

“Nah, though I’m very good at darning.” The Doctor donned his spectacles while scanning the data. “First, though, I always like to know what’s on the other end.”

“Ah. Well, probably another universe.”

“Very good, Martha.”

“So you’re seeing if you can find Rose?”

His lips pursed. “Uh, the thought may have occurred to me.”

Martha shrugged. “It’s okay. You miss her. I understand. Is it that universe then?”

“I’m not sure. The snag actually looks like it goes deeper than that.”

“Deeper?”

“Through a couple universes.”

“A couple?”

“Maybe, a couple hundred… thousand. My, this is just an enormous amount of energy. But, yeah, the TARDIS should recognize if it finds the dimension Rose went to-“

The whole TARDIS shuddered then listed and the pair were dumped onto their backs. “What’s going on, Doctor?”

He’d pulled himself back up to the console. “It’s impossible. It’s gone. Closed, just in a flash. Where the hell could all of that energy have gone?”

Martha paused for a moment to catch her breath, then rolled over and pulled her knees beneath herself. “We need to install soft fluffy carpets.” Then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. “Hello there?”

The Doctor, staring at the panel as though a Dalek had just popped out of it, rubber mallet in hand, snapped “What, Martha?”

“No, not you, Doctor. Her.” Martha moved unsteadily towards the slight blonde girl who had landed face down near the wall of the TARDIS, and the Doctor felt his hearts catch, the mallet dropping out of his hand. It almost looked like her…

And then the blonde was on her feet, her hands in the ready position, eyes scanning the room wildly. “Is this Hell?”

Martha shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she swallowed and nodded. “Oh. Good. Is it heaven?”

She smiled. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh. Okay.” The girl glanced around again, before horror overtook her face. “The gateway? Did it close? I’m not there to stop them! Do you know if it’s closed?”

The Doctor had finally recovered enough to approach the women. “It’s closed. Nothing else will get through.”

“Oh thank God.” Green eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her body. “She’s safe. And I’m…” The eyes shot open. “I did it. I saved the world again.” She looked up at them. “Why aren’t I dead?” Then she crumpled, sobbing as the Doctor caught her.

Martha knelt by them helplessly as the girl wept and the Doctor held her. She noticed the bruises on the girl’s neck, but saw no cuts. Meeting the Doctor’s eyes, she could tell he was as lost for an explanation or anything to do or say as she was. After several moments, he began to repeat, “You’re safe,” to her like a mantra, and stroked her back and shoulders.

Finally, the sobs eased, and with one last shudder, she fell into sleep.

Wide-eyed, the Doctor turned to Martha. “Well, looks like we’ve got a guest. And she’s nearly broken my ribs. Give us a hand would you?” Martha took the girl’s legs and helped to carry her to one of the rooms that usually had a bed in it. They laid her down, and the Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver which he handed to Martha while he set about getting a wash cloth and water, groaning as he bent over.

“Well, she’s not feverish, and it’s just sleep. I wonder what this poor girl’s been through. Why would she have to save the world?”

“I dunno. Then again, I don’t know how she nearly squeezed the life out of me just now either.” He moved stiffly towards the bed.

“Let me see.” Martha blushed. “Err, I mean, if you’d like.”

The Doctor gave her an askew glance as he sat down with great care, removed the girl’s shoes, and began to wipe the grime off of her face and hands. “Well, I mean- I can- well, they’re ribs, they’ll heal all right. Don’t worry about that. I’m just curious where a girl who wouldn’t weigh seven stone soaking wet got the foot-poundage to give a Time Lord a hematoma. We don’t bruise easily. I don’t know that she’s human.”

“She looks human. I mean, so do you, but-“

He held her right wrist up. “And are you watching those bruises heal right in front of us? This is an odd one. Super-strong traveler from another dimension? The anticipation’s just fantastic.” Sure enough, the bruises Martha had seen were fading with unnatural speed, while beside the bed, a familiar light danced in the Doctor’s eyes.

~*~

Buffy shifted in the bed, reveling in the softness, warmth, and comfort. Not quite awake, she knew nonetheless that nothing was urgent now, and that she was safe. As she stretched and yawned, the memories came swarming back, and suspicion crept in, but she did not panic, and she did not cry out. Instead, she opened her eyes and slowly sat up in the bed.

The lights were dim, but the man was there, still dressed in his suit, sitting next to the bed, eager yet serene. “Hello there,” he said with a smile. It was a good smile. He sounded British. Hopefully he was Giles-British and not Spike-British.

Giles. Spike. She would never see either of them again. Who would have ever believed she’d feel horrible about never seeing Spike again? She wondered if he would really keep his word and take care of Dawn. Pushing the thought away, she nodded at her host. “Hi.”

“How are you? Can I get you anything?”

“Bathroom?”

“Ah. Um, out the door, to the left- well, maybe I’ll just walk you there.”

“Okay.” He offered her his hand, and helped her out of the bed. She was barefoot, but still in the clothes she’d worn for battle, and everything ached.

“I, um, well, I’m the Doctor, and you’re on the TARDIS, that’s my ship.”

“Thank you for having me. I’m Buffy Summers.” She had to crane her neck up quite high to look at him in the eye, and he bowed his head to her in return.

“Well, Buffy Summers, you’ll have to tell me all about saving the world. After, of course, you use the facilities. Here we are.” The ship must be enormous, because they’d stopped in front of a bathroom that would have been at home at the luxury suite of a Four Seasons. “There’s towels in there, and a toothbrush, and um, if you check the closet on the right of the tub, there’s a dressing gown that should fit you. You can do a tour of the wardrobe later.”

“Okay, Doctor. Thanks.” Buffy shut the door as he waved. _Strange man, but a very nice host._ She used the toilet and toothbrush, then rejoiced in the hot shower, letting it wash away the sweat and grime from the tower, and the blood…

“Buffy?” The girl from before had entered the bathroom.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? The Doctor says you’ve been in here nearly half an hour.” Buffy yawned, looking at her wrinkled fingers

“I may have fallen asleep a little bit. Thanks, I’m sorry.” She cut off the water and wrapped a towel around herself. “What was your name?”

“I’m Martha Jones. The Doctor and I will be outside, and there’s food too. By the way, what year is it?”

“2001, last time I checked.”

“Pretty close then.” And with that cryptic remark, the door shut. Buffy got out of the shower, noticed that Martha had brought some clean clothes in, and put them on. The pajamas fit well. Martha was waiting for her out the door. "You okay?”

“I’ll be all right. Give me about six more years of sleep, I’ll be all shiny and new.”

“Well, we don’t get a lot of guests here. Normally I barely even see these back rooms. Hope everything’s been comfy, the TARDIS is usually good for that. Although, all I could get out of the kitchen was what looks like someone’s leftover tea.”

“Tea? Great. That’s okay. You’re all British then?”

“Um, well, I am. The Doctor is a slightly different story. You?”

“Californian. I’m like an alien.” Martha smiled and chuckled, but said nothing.

They arrived at the bedroom, where the Doctor was waiting, the tea tray sitting on the bedside table. Buffy was grateful to crawl back onto the bed. “Thank you. Oooh, chocolate chip scone!”

The Doctor smiled. “It’s nothing.” Martha continued to look amused. “You’re not feeling up to explanations yet, are you?”

Buffy swallowed a hunk of scone. “Sort of. I mean, I guess this is probably another dimension, seeing as I’m not dead in a heap at the bottom of a tower.” She sighed. “There was a hell god, trying to break through to her home world. Long story. It’s always a long story…” She trailed off, choosing to nibble instead.

Martha was surprised, something she didn’t know could still happen. “’Hell god’? Never met one of those.”

“I have.”

The scone pointed at the Doctor. “You can vouch for the fun-ness that is, then.”

“Well, at least you won’t have to give her that “new dimensions” speech you had prepared then, Doctor.” Martha grinned then looked at Buffy. “He’s actually got a shortcut he can use to get your end of the story if you don’t mind. He’s just feeling a bit shy for some reason.”

“Telepathic magic or something? Feel free to use the shortcut. I’m not feeling so much the yente right now.” She paused and looked around the room. “Is there someone else in here or does somebody have an extra heart?”

The Doctor’s jaw had dropped. “Ooh, you are good.”

Martha laughed. “He’s the alien.” Buffy nodded with wide eyes as the Doctor recovered and sat on the bed next to her, placing his hands on the sides of her face.

“Well then, Miss Summers, what do you have to tell us?” Buffy felt his gaze reaching into her and then sudden and complete relaxation, as though his fingertips at her temples were her only connection to the world as she fell, once more, but this time gently and forever. “A pretty girl, popular and loved, but then… you were called. One girl in all the world. Such strength, and suddenly everything was death and demons and fire and the vampires, and always the ones you couldn’t save. New places, Hellmouth, so alone, but then you met an Angel… oh, oh God, that’s horrible, you had to save the world and he had to go to hell, and that look as you shoved the sword into his chest; he still loved you, still loves you but you never could be together, and you wonder still how he was allowed back, wonder if you could ever love anyone alive, wonder if part of you started dying even then, if death is truly your only gift, and these past few months, the things that kept death away kept slipping, and slipping, your lover, your mother, and finally, when they asked you to plunge the sword in again, this time to your own blood, your own sister, you said no, you knew you could make it stop, make it all stop, and even that hasn’t worked, and now you’re here.” Buffy opened her eyes as the tears leaked out, and saw the Doctor looking down at her, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide and ever so old. “Oh, Buffy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“That’s me. I’m the Slayer.”

“What’s a Slayer?”

He turned slowly to Martha. “Our new guest was the defender of her world, Martha. She gave her life for it.”

“Twice,” whispered Buffy.

The Doctor smiled. “So you did.” He realized that he’d continued to cradle her head in his hands, and let them drop; as he did, she dropped into sleep. He wiped the tear trails from her cheek. “Such a burden.”

“Sounds like it. You two may have a few things in common.” Martha gazed down at the Slayer. With her eyes closed, she looked like one of those girls from American television who would ride around in Mercedes convertibles and steal the nice brunette’s boyfriend. But Martha had seen those eyes, in those moments after Buffy had arrived, and only the road the Doctor had described could have left that look in them.

“I’ve been around a long, long time. She’s only twenty years old, but through her I could see down the entire line. The world she’s from, it’s a crossroads of some sort, other dimensions breaking through everywhere, full of venom and malice and terrifying things. They infused her with strength, Martha, the powers in her world, created this seed of power from the same source as their enemies, it used the bodies of young girls, made them into their warriors. And then sent them against the horrors, one by one, to die, for millennia.” His hand pushed Buffy’s hair back from her face. “She’s never been anything more than a pawn, and she sacrificed again and again.” His face hardened.

“What do we do for her?”

“I don’t know.”

~*~

This time when Buffy awoke there was sunshine on her face. Martha was there, her head buried in a medical textbook.

“Okay, you’re familiar, but what happened to the big cave-y ship thing?”

“We figured you could use some calm and fresh air. And the TARDIS isn’t for everyone.” Martha stood. “Well, I mean, I’m sure you’re more than welcome there, but here there’s a proper kitchen that actually cooks the food you put into it and sunshine and birdsong and almost ninety-five percent fewer alien attacks.”

Buffy sat up and swung her legs off the bed. “Alien attacks, huh? Got any demons?”

“No.” But then Martha considered it for a moment. “I mean, at least, not that I’ve seen. The Doctor may know more about that. Mostly it’s just aliens or deranged humans, and they’re bad enough.”

“I see.” Buffy did a handstand, just to make sure that her slayer-strength hadn’t been left behind at the portal. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out. Does that Doctor have a first name? Or a last one?”

Martha watched Buffy push off and then land back on her feet. “No, he’s just the Doctor. I see he wasn’t kidding about you having super-strength.”

“It’s a Slayer thing.” Buffy shook her head. “Great. He goes by a title. That always means excitement in that ‘Oh my God, we’re all going to die’ kind of way. And I should know.” Martha nodded knowingly. “So, you’re not alien?”

“Nah, just an adrenaline junkie I guess. You’re right. Life’s never boring with the Doctor. Otherwise, I’m a medical student. Then I met him on the moon-“

“Regular people travel to the moon here?” Maybe this world was a lot different

“No, it was a weird alien thing. Although, I meant to ask, does this world look much different than your Earth?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. Never been to- where are we?”

“My flat. London.”

“I’ve never been to London before. Hell dimensions, all sorts of sewers, Los Angeles, but not London. But it’s probably just swap out the demons for the aliens and we’re at about the same place. Are there shrimp here?” Martha gave a puzzled nod. “See, not so bad. But who knows what else is different?” No Angel. No Spike. No Anya. They would have died peacefully hundreds of years ago, without vampires or demons to intervene. Would have had families and kids, or possibly syphilis in Angel’s case, if his stories were true. Buffy wondered if there was another her, wandering around, never called, never asked to give up everything.

“Oh, yeah. You said it was 2001 when you, um, were in the other world?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s probably some long explanation about bends in time and space, but nobody except the Doctor would understand it, so, anyway, it’s 2007. That okay?”

“Is Britney Spears still popular?”

“Shaved all her hair off.”

“Then it’s all good.”

~*~

When the Doctor returned, he found the girls still chatting on the bed. “Hello. Not interrupting am I?”

“No. Martha was just explaining to me the ins and outs of traveling through time and space with the Time Lord.” Buffy looked him up and down. “You look about as much like a Time Lord as I look like a Slayer.”

He smiled. “Ah, what’s in a title anyway? But, glad to have you with us.”

“Yeah.” Buffy nodded and looked around. “Here. With you. And there’s no going back?”

The Doctor thought, leaning against the wall and crossing one leg before the other. “I can’t say impossible, though it’s more than a little bit unlikely. The amount of power that was piercing through at that point, I mean, we could blow up an entire galaxy and not get that far through again.”

“Mom always did say Dawn was a force of nature.” Buffy smiled. “So yeah, I’m here, ready to start a whole new life. Again.” Staring at the sunshine out the window she asked herself, “How am I supposed to have a love life without vampires?”

“Love life with vampires?” Martha hadn’t heard this part.

“Long story.” Buffy and the Doctor spoke at the same time, then he stopped and appeared to blush. After an awkward pause, Buffy changed the subject.

“Anyway, are you two off in your ship?”

The Doctor jumped on this topic. “Yes, well, I mean, I don’t want to interrupt your first vacation from defending the world since you were called, but you are invited to come along. See this universe. I’d like that. If you don’t, we can set you up here, or someplace back in America if you’d prefer. Start over. Have a nice, demon-free existence.”

Buffy’s mouth curled. “With a white picket fence?”

He shrugged. “Something like that, I suppose.” Then he thought a moment and added, “Of course, aliens invade every Christmas, but that’s the way things work out sometimes.” The Doctor looked down on her, hands in his pockets, and she couldn’t quite meet that steady gaze.

“Yeah. It’s a nice thought. Settle down, find a guy with a pulse and a cute butt, make babies, get fat and old. Problem is, I can’t even remember the last time I imagined it. The guys with pulses all think I’m insane, I don’t even know if Slayers can have babies, and the getting fat part, eww.” Buffy couldn’t keep her eyes off the window. It was all so bright. “And if I know anything, it’s that the worst things in the world will always find me. I’m the thing scary things are scared of. It’s all I know how to be.” She turned and looked at the Doctor and Martha, who had developed the cautious beginnings of smiles. “So if you don’t mind, I’ll come along. Make a name for myself. After all, it’s been such a long time since I met an enemy who didn’t know me.”

“Very good then.” The Doctor’s pleasure and excitement was contagious, and Buffy found herself energized by his smile.

“Cool. Where’s the ship?”

“It’s just through here. You didn’t tell her, did you Martha?”

“And spoil your fun? Never. Come along Buffy, this is his favorite part.” Martha pulled her off of the bed and into the next room, where the TARDIS stood in all of its blue glory.

After Buffy had wrapped her head around the whole “it’s bigger on the inside” concept, the Doctor shut the door and headed for the controls. “So, Miss Summers, when are we headed?”

“When?”

“Yeah, when? Forwards or back?”

Buffy edged toward the console, choosing to stand slightly closer to Martha than the Doctor. “Um, forwards. Never was much of a history… person thing. Definitely forwards.”

“Forwards it is.” The Doctor began to manipulate controls and ramble on about them, which Buffy wasn’t able to follow.

Martha nudged her towards the railing. “Hold on. He’s not the best driver ever.”

_Something else we have in common,_ thought Buffy. She took the advice, discreetly clutching the rail with one hand for dear life. _Maybe I should have tried the picket fence approach._

“Are we ready girls?”

“Anytime you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

The girls were staring at him again. The Doctor felt a frisson of dread. “What? Have I got something on my face?”

“Nothing other than your normal sunny looks,” chimed Buffy. “We need to go shopping.”

“For what? The TARDIS kitchen has been acting sublimely of late. I had a fantastic steak tartar the other day, admittedly, it was an odd choice for breakfast, but it was delightful all the same.” They were advancing on him, and he quelled the instinct to run.

Martha replied. “Buffy really needs to buy some clothes.”

The Doctor glanced at Buffy. “What do you mean? She looks, um, lovely.”

“I’ve been wearing the coveralls we got on the Tau Ceti space station for three days now.” It was true. They were bright green and she’d rolled the sleeves and legs up considerably. She looked like a Technicolor Dickensian moppet. But what was wrong with that?

“Well, haven’t you explored the wardrobe yet? I thought you two spent hours up there last week.”

Martha sighed. “We did. It’s either period clothes-“

Buffy interrupted, “And might I add, we really need to get Martha to Louis XVI sometime because she seriously hotties up those gowns.”

Martha blushed and finished, “- or Rose’s old things, and she was a half foot taller than Buffy.”

The Doctor faltered. “Yes, she was.” He turned away from them, back to the controls. “So, I don’t suppose any of that would do?”

Martha looked like she was about to die of either embarrassment or envy, so Buffy cut in, “I mean, they’re nice, but it would be nice to have, y’know, my own things. Something of my own, here.” She sighed. “And you wouldn’t want me running around in Rose’s clothes anyway.”

Pressing his arms against the console, the Doctor muttered, “Yes, you’re right.” Then his demeanor altered and he twirled around. “So, where would you like to go shopping? There’s a couple of fashion planets in the thirty-fifth century that could do wonders for you, if you’d like.”

Buffy had gotten used to these mood swings and took it in stride. “Twenty-first century Earth is fine, Doctor.”

“We were thinking we could maybe go to L.A., seeing as I’ve never been there and it’s where she knows the shops.” Martha had recovered finally and joined them at the controls.

The Doctor grimaced. “Oh, this is going to be expensive.”

Martha smirked. “Like you care about money. Wait till you see what he does to cash points.” Buffy tilted her head at her. “Money machines?”

“Oh, the ATM?” Buffy nodded. “Lemme guess?” She pantomimed the Doctor pointing the sonic screwdriver at an ATM in a heroic pose, “I am the Lord of Time, Thief of ATMs, Denier of Fiscal Responsibility, and you will give cash to me!”

Even the Doctor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Har, har. You make fun, but it’s only to fund your shopping extravaganza on Rodeo Drive. Or we could get jobs?”

Martha and Buffy made simultaneous faces. “Never again. I’m never forgiving those angels for forcing me to work in a chip shop,” avowed Martha. “I think I only just got the grease out of my hair yesterday.” She felt a strand and frowned. “Nope, still there.” Buffy set a companionable arm around her shoulders, while the Doctor finished setting the coordinates.

“Here we go then. Los Angeles, California, 2007.”

“Oh, this is exciting. Sunshine, Hollywood, movie stars, I can’t wait.”

“Martha, I’ve taken you across galaxies, you’ve met Shakespeare and beaten the Daleks and you’re getting this excited about Hollywood?” The Doctor shook his head. “I’ll never figure you humans out.” He lifted one last lever and the TARDIS swung to the side.

“Got something against California, Doctor?” Buffy seemed to be taking a slight personal affront.

“Well, the last time I was there, I got shot. Had to regenerate. Got amnesia. Kept having amnesia till I regenerated again. It was a whole twisted cycle.”

“Yikes.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, that was San Francisco. I’m sure L.A. will treat me just fine, what with a local guide and all.” The Doctor grinned, and it was business as usual. Buffy excused herself to go find an outfit that would get her service at a respectable Los Angeles clothing shop, and Martha sidled up to the Doctor.

“There’s something you’re not telling her. Out with it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing important. Just did some checking up on her.”

“And?”

“Well, Sunnydale, California, in our dimension, happens to be the site of a rift in time and space.”

“Sounds like she’d be right at home.”

“Oh, she would be. She lived there.” The Doctor coughed. “The Buffy from this dimension.”

Martha’s eyes went wide. “So, she’s here?”

“Yeah. Not in Los Angeles, but in New York now. She’s married. Buffy Summers-Grey. She does some sort of work in fashion. Was commended for her efforts in defending her office during the Cyberman invasion last year.”

“That’s our Buffy. And her Mom?”

“Dead. Embolism, same as in Buffy’s world.”

Martha gulped. “Oh my. And her sister?”

“She was an only child. No dimension-breaking energy source to latch onto her here.”

“Oh. Are you going to tell her?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Only if she asks. I’m not sure she wants to know.”

Martha bit her lip. “Yeah, you may have a point there.” Buffy still stared off into space a lot, when she thought Martha and the Doctor weren’t looking. Martha didn’t know exactly what it was she was thinking of, but she suspected the Doctor had a better idea. Sometimes Buffy and he would share glances, or just one or two words, which Martha knew not to be jealous of. But they did seem to understand each other in a way that sometimes made Martha keenly aware that she was the only “normal” human in the room.

“Is that my shirt?!” Whether it was all shock or partially fury in the Doctor’s voice, Martha couldn’t tell.

“Why yes, yes they are.” Buffy had found a 1970s black mini-skirt that wouldn’t draw too much attention and paired it with one of the Doctor’s blue oxford shirts, which was opened to the third button revealing one of the Doctor’s undershirts, and had rolled the sleeves up to her elbow with open cuffs. “And they’re kind of tight too, skinny man. But I like the cotton-silk blend. This is nice.”

“I think she looks better in it than you do, Doctor.”

The Doctor shook his head and shut his jaw. “I am never traveling with two women ever again. And that shirt’s going to be returned too.” He frowned. “I like that one. Let’s get on with this then.” He grabbed his jacket, but Buffy grabbed his wrist. “What now?

“What month is it?”

“I dunno. June, July?”

“This is Southern California, not London. You don’t need the jacket, trust me.”

He looked down at his own shirt and whimpered. “But, um, we match?”

Martha smiled. “It’s cute. Really.”

Buffy continued, “And do Time Lords burn, because some SPF 30 is never a bad idea with fair skin like yours-“

The Doctor grabbed his hand back from Buffy, briefly made a fist with it, then pointed at Martha and Buffy in turn: “Okay. No jacket. Cute matching shirts. But no more sunscreen talk.” He headed towards the doors. “And if you offer to give me a makeover I’m stranding you on the next swamp planet we find. That goes for both of you, Martha.” He opened the TARDIS doors and was immediately grateful for Buffy’s advice, as it was at least ninety degrees out, and bright. He patted his chest, returned to the TARDIS, and retrieved a pair of sunglasses, the sonic screwdriver, and the psychic paper from his jacket, before returning outside where the girls were.

“Now. Where are we headed first, oh fearless leader?”

Buffy smiled up at him, then took Martha’s arm and started walking off. “ATM first, then Victoria’s Secret.”

“What?!”

Martha called back, “C’mon, Doctor!”

“Oh, God help me.” And he ran up to squire them off. The day went well, although Buffy burned through the money at an alarming rate. They kicked him out of Victoria’s Secret after he asked how many bras a woman really needed. He did better at the department stores, and the girls actually deigned to ask him an opinion of a few outfits. Martha picked up a few things as well under Buffy’s discerning eye. Shoes were an interminable task, but Buffy pointed out to him that spike heels gave her an extra edge in a kicking match, which he had to allow for. While Buffy was picking out make up, they ate gelato on the sidewalk and she quizzed him on celebrities who were aliens.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Fienskari. Which explains why her legs are so gorgeous, Fienskari in their natural forms are rather similar to herons. Lovely race, really, and well-known as minstrels throughout the universe.”

From down the street there was a shriek, and a crash. A large, gooey blue ball rolled down the street, then unfolded, and the alien tossed a manhole cover aside and crawled down. Buffy emerged from the store, herself the center of a ball of bags. “Alien?”

The Doctor licked his spoon. “Yup. Looked like a Ragashian. Or maybe a Nutu. Hard to tell the difference. Hope it’s a Nutu. Ragashians can be nasty buggers.” Martha nodded in agreement.

“Down in the sewer?”

Martha wiped her face. “Yeah, your favorite.”

Frowning, the Doctor looked up at Buffy and asked, “What is it with you and sewers, and tunnels, and caverns? Ever since you showed up that’s all we see any more.”

Buffy frowned and whined. “It’s how my life works. Do I have time to take this stuff back to the TARDIS?”

Martha volunteered. “Probably not. Hand them over, you and him go in.”

Buffy hesitated, “Martha, you’re not our Kato or anything.”

“Nah, I just don’t feel terribly inclined to see another sewer. And if it’s a Ragashian, I’m not much one for reconstructive surgery either. I’ll take the bags and check out Mann’s Chinese Theater. You two have fun though, with the sewer.” With a peck to Buffy’s cheek, she took the bags and headed back towards the TARDIS, leaving the pair to stare off after her.

“She’s much brighter than I am, isn’t she?”

“That’s why you’re the one who’s going to be taking my shirt to the dry cleaners after you slog through another sewer in it.” He took her hand. “But she’s going to see movie stars, and you’re going to see a new, interesting, and very blue alien.”

“And the difference is?”

“Movie stars are usually less blue and not in the sewers.” They grinned at each other. “Come on then.” She hopped first down through the manhole, then held back to wait for him to lead through the pipes. Every once in awhile she would correct him at an intersection, asserting her superior tracking abilities. She moved differently, he noticed, slinking and crouching rather than bouncing along the path. Hunting.

She let him take the lead, in negotiations. The alien, a Ragashian fugitive, claimed that he’d simply been surprised while out of disguise and fled when the woman screamed. But when the creature lunged for the Doctor, and nearly knocked him out against the pipe, Buffy was there. The Doctor had seen Ragashians pull steel bulkheads apart, they had seven limbs all of them deadly, but Buffy simply fought like there was no other purpose in life, fought like it was all she knew.

Death, the Doctor considered, did seem to be her gift. Everything was a bit swimmy, but he watched her force the Ragashian down into the water and hold him there until he quit moving. She was very good at switching between the silly little girl and the vicious killer. She twisted its head until there was a final, sickening snap. Maybe too good. But now she was kneeling over him. “Doctor, Doctor, are you okay?”

“Fine. Just a knock on the head. I’ll be fine.”

“Doctor, you left a dent.”

He looked up at the impression of his head in the pipe wall then grinned at her. “So I did.” He noticed a trickle of blood coming from his eye. “Know I’ve got a clean hankie somewhere.” He patted his chest, but Buffy pulled a kerchief from one of his pants pockets and wiped the blood off of his face, then pressed the cloth against the cut. “Ouch, not so hard.”

“Sorry.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not – we should get you checked out. Who knows what that did to that big brain of yours, Doc?”

He found her hand and held it. “Honest, Buffy, I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment, and a hand – hey, no tears.” He brushed them away from her cheeks with his finger.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. You just, when he grabbed you, you looked like a rag doll, looked like he’d cracked the life out of you.”

“Shhh. Worse comes to worse, I’ll regenerate. Which I’m not going to do right now. Hand?” Buffy obliged and helped the Doctor to his feet, then let him support himself on her. “It does smell like you’re replacing my shirt, however.”

Buffy looked down. “Oh God, it does. I’m sorry.”

He tucked her in closer. “Nothing to fear. Sewage happens. And you saved my life, I think that counts in your favor.”

Buffy leaned back into him. “Just, quit letting your guard down around these dangerous alien types. I can’t have you dying on me.”

“Buffy, it’s gonna take more than a punk thug like that to get you rid of me.” With one last squeeze, he ascended the ladder back into the sunlight, leaving Buffy to wipe the last of the tears off her face before she followed.

~*~

The Doctor followed Martha, then saw Buffy and stopped dead.

“No. No. I don’t have to and I don’t want to.”

Buffy smirked at his reaction. “Why not, Doctor? I’m sick of doing it for you.”

“There’re more important things for me to concentrate on: the fate of worlds; the nature of justice; whether John Lennon or Paul McCartney was the most important Beatle. Big stuff!”

Buffy pointed the practice blade under the Doctor’s chin. “I’ve now saved you in three sword fights. It’s time for you to learn. Now pick up your sword, and my name is Inigo Montoya.”

“Ooh, can I be the Man in Black?” Martha was a far more malleable pupil than the Doctor.

“Martha, you’re just encouraging her. I’ve survived plenty of sword fights. Honest, it doesn’t usually crop up this often. Who brings a sword to a laser fight?”

“You’re so useless with these things that it’s actually dangerous for me to have you around.” She stood down and stepped back. “Martha’s been practicing with me for a while. Give it a shot against her. Remember, Martha, that’s a scimitar, so don’t overestimate your reach.”

The Doctor managed to disarm Martha in four minutes. “Lucky shot,” she huffed.

“See? I’m not so bad.”

“You aren’t? Try me.” Buffy entered the other side of the practice ring. The Doctor winked at Martha, before attempting to sneak Buffy’s leg out from beneath her. Six seconds later, his blade clattered to the ground.

“Again.” Buffy’s smirk was gone, her hand on her hip.

“I fail to see how I’m a danger to you.” Their swords crossed again, with Buffy playing the defense to draw the Doctor in. Her banter, however, took the offensive.

“What’s a Queen’s biggest weakness in chess?”

“Overconfidence. Trying to take every other piece without paying attention to the other pieces around her.”

“No, Doctor, it’s the King. I’m the best offensive weapon around, but if they trap you, I’m useless. Can’t fly the TARDIS without you. I get sacrificed. And I’m sick of dying.” His saber flew back into the wall. “Again.” Martha retrieved the blade and handed it to him. The Doctor decided to swap positions with Buffy both in the banter and in the sparring.

“So where did you and that strapping young bloke from Betelgeuse disappear off to the other day?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Arthur and Buffy went for a picnic, Doctor.”

“I thought he was a bit dull. What did you do? Talk about ternadium mining and smelting?”

“Nah. But the sex was fantastic.” With a punch to his gut, Buffy grabbed the Doctor’s sword out of his hand. Martha had covered her face with her hands, peeking between her fingers. The Doctor was flat on his back, panting. Buffy flipped his sword over and presented the handle to him. “Again.” With a grunt, he got back up to his feet, and glared at Buffy before engaging her again.

“So how many does that make?”

Buffy grimaced. “None of your business and mind your slashes.”

“Oh, I’m minding them. Got lots of mind power, y’know. Genius. I think with the big head.”

“That sure is a big head you’ve got there, Doctor,” countered Buffy.

“I walked into that. But your track record is impressive, Casanovette.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” He attacked her legs, which she neatly dodged to the side, smacking his butt with the flat of her sword.

“Oi!” he cried.

Buffy laughed. “What?”

“That hurt!”

“Then don’t make stupid lunges.”

He turned on her, “It wasn’t stupid, it was calculated and methodical. You’re just very small and very fast.”

Their blades locked, and they slid up close together. Buffy whispered, “It was methodically stupid. Quit projecting. You’re going to lose a hand with those horrible thrusts.”

The Doctor grinned. “Did that once already.”

Buffy broke the lock with a kick near his groin, pushing back. “And yet you haven’t learned.”

After losing his sword eight more times, though holding out for nearly ten minutes in the last bout, the Doctor’s sword clattered to the ground again, and he collapsed on all fours, panting. “That’s enough. I can’t do this anymore.”

Buffy nodded, falling to her knees beside him. “Good session. You’re not entirely beyond saving.”

“I’ll beat Mondego yet.” He lurched to his feet. “You girls, keep doing your girly things. I’m going to go. Do things. Drink things. Cold things. Cold wet things.” After he stumbled away, Martha joined Buffy on the mats.

“Well, I hate to say watching him get his arse handed to him was satisfying, but that was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah. He can definitely improve. Plus, the man gets more ego massaging than just about anyone I know, a good butt-whupping is good for him.” She eyeballed Martha.

“What? I don’t massage his ego.”

“Your eyes do.”

“I’m very discreet about it.”

“You lope after him.”

“I do not. Well. Maybe. A little bit.”

“He could hand you his dirty underwear and you’d beam and say, ‘Thank you, Doctor, do you really mean I get to do your laundry?’”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Did you see yourself when he gave you that bow after you saved him from that lizard lord guy? It’s true.”

Martha sighed and laid back. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“I’ve seen this show way too many times, Martha. And I know it’s a cliché, but I guarantee you, there’s somebody else out there who will appreciate you more, and by the time Doc here realizes what he’s missed, you won’t even be interested anymore.” She made a face. “Going lesbian is an option.”

Martha laughed. “Thanks for the choice. But who do you love after you’ve loved the most amazing man in the universe?”

“You’re an amazing person too. Other amazing people are going to find you. Just you watch.”

“They sure seem to find you.”

Buffy shrugged. “It’s a discipline-complex thingy. Riley explained it to me once. Guys dig chicks who can beat them up.”

“And who do those girls dig back?”

“The ones who still treat her like she’s a girl. Corn-fed Iowa boys with nice shoulders. Reformed serial killer vampires. Y’know, the usual things. The occasional fling with dim-witted but sweet ternadium miners if she knows she won’t have to make much conversation with them later.” Buffy flopped onto her back. “I’m still adjusting to being the one doing the leaving at the end of the day. It’s kind of new territory for me.”

“So you’re completely immune to the Doctor’s charms?”

Laughing, Buffy stretched her arms. “I never said that. He’s charming. I mean, no butt to speak of, and a little unstable, but hey, that’s a big Buffy aphrodisiac. It’s the way he looks at me sometimes? I’m an intruder in his little kingdom. I’m all sorts of things he doesn’t believe in, magic and brute force and sex and violence. And I’m okay with that, it’s who I am. But I don’t think he really likes me. It’s like he just keeps me around because he’s afraid that I’ll screw this universe up if he lets me out.” She flipped to her feet. “Anyway, ready for your session?”

“He could barely walk after that, and you’re popping right back up for another round?”

“Martha, I’ve got muscles he couldn’t even dream of.”

~*~

“Buffy, NO!”

But it was too late. Buffy had lifted the idol off of the rock. Her Terfayle scout squealed with glee before the distant rumbling became apparent and he quickly ran out of the chamber, the Doctor allowing him to leave. Buffy spun around, terrified that a giant boulder was going to appear and chase them out of the cavern, but no such thing appeared. “What the hell is that noise?”

In silence the Doctor strode up to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door. “Come with me and you’ll see what you’ve done. Did you pay no attention at all in the city? No you just run off on your bloody own.”

“No I listened! If we get this idol to that Xylitol guy then he’ll get the throne. He’s the rightful heir, and you said he’d make a good king. Stop pulling so hard!”

He released her arm roughly as they breathed fresh air again. “This is what you didn’t pay attention to.”

“Oh.”

Down in the valley, the half of the city that wasn’t destroyed in the landslide was beginning to burn. A steady stream of Plagians was pouring out into the countryside. “Remember, Tisnala is a republic now. Two hundred years ago the Terfayles rigged the idol to destroy the city if the Plagians tried to raise another king.”

“Oh God.”

“Martha’s down there.”

“Doctor, I-“

“Buffy, I don’t know how many are dead yet. Not to mention how many will die in the civil war that’s going to come of this if we don’t figure out a way to stop it.” He took the idol out of her other hand, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing Zytanel will be a good king, as these people are going to need a leader.” He turned to her. “We’re going to go rescue some people. Then I’m going to decide what to do with you.”

The city was something out of a nightmare, timbers burning and embers scorching her throat. Buffy followed the bucket brigades in, finding Martha at the head. “Martha, are you okay?”

“Just fantastic. Doctor didn’t catch you in time?”

Buffy passed her the next bucket. “No, I didn’t-“

“Yes, I know.” Martha was cut off by the sound of wails, all too young, coming from the upper floors of the building. “Can you?” Buffy nodded. “Then run!”

Buffy started, but a hand caught her shoulder. “What are you running into now?!” The Doctor’s eyes were wild, and he scared her.

“Kids. Upstairs.”

“Doctor, let her go, she needs to get those kids!” Martha nearly threw the bucket of water over the Doctor’s head. “Now!”

The Doctor nodded and released Buffy. “I’ll be by the windows.”

Buffy just turned and ran into the building. The flames burned, and she splashed a bucket of water across the stairs to dampen the flames enough to pass. The first floor was empty. The second had only a body. _No pulse, oh God no pulse._ Nonetheless Buffy took her to the window and dropped her to a net-team that the Doctor had arranged. The cries upstairs were still coming, so Buffy continued upwards. A young girl held her baby brother, crouched in the corner. She had thought to wrap wet rags around their faces. “Help!” A wall of flame separated the pair from Buffy and the door.

Buffy didn’t think, simply ran through the fire. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She held the girl on one hip and the infant on the other.

“Did you find our Mom? We heard her coming, then there was a crash.”

“I got her out, I’ll get you out too.” _Please Doctor, please have saved their Mom._ Buffy looked around. The lone window in the room was small, too small for anyone but the infant. Buffy put the little girl down. “Your brother’s going the express route. You and me, we’re gonna have to fight through. Okay? But you’ve already saved your brother, you’re very strong, and we’re gonna make this.” The girl nodded.

Buffy poked her head through the window. “Doctor!”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a bouncing baby boy, you ready?”

“Ready!” shouted the team.

“Okay.” She kissed the boy’s forehead then dropped him towards the net, then grabbed up the little girl. “Put your face in my chest and close your eyes. You don’t need to watch.” The girl huddled into her, and Buffy braved the flames again. She found the stairwell the worse for wear. She managed to leap down the balcony to the second floor, but the next stair well was aflame, and the room with the window was blocked with flames as well. Buffy prepped herself, then watched steam rise as Martha doused the stairs with water again.

“Well come on then, hurry up!”

“Thanks, Martha.” They ran out of the building together, then Martha took the child from her.

“Good work. Now go up the street and take the third left, there’s another building that needs your talents. The Doctor and the net-team are already on their way.”

“Okay. Their mother?” Martha simply shook her head, then turned to take the girl to a baby-brigade that passed children back out of the city.

Buffy swallowed then dashed up the street. The Doctor greeted her with a bucket of water in her face. “Don’t argue, maybe now by the end of this you’ll have an un-singed hair left on your head.” He tied a wet kerchief around her mouth. “I think these ones are on the fourth floor. We’ll be waiting.” Buffy nodded and rushed in. The Doctor’s intelligence was right: three Plagians on the top floor, and thank God, no bodies.

Every second counted. She began to lose track of the number of flights she’d climbed. Though there was a sense that the bucket brigades were beginning to control the fires, the buildings Buffy stormed were never the ones under control. As the day dimmed to twilight, there were fewer live screams, and more bodies. Finally, coughing and choking, Martha and the Doctor led her out of the wreckage of the city to the riverside, where they collapsed into the water and hacked and, in Buffy’s case, quietly wept.

Afterwards, she found herself in a tent with the Doctor, Martha, and Zytanel. Plagians were a tall, thin, hairy, and thoughtful race, with no discernible ears beneath their shaggy coats, though their hearing was acute, as the hair served as sense organs. Zytanel regarded her thoughtfully, while Martha looked exhausted, clutching the Doctor’s arm as though it was the only thing keeping her alive, much less upright. The Doctor divided his attention between Martha and the new king. Zytanel spoke of impulsiveness, and of how unwise it was to follow fairy tales, and how he would have been content to be Chancellor of the Republic, but it seemed destiny had been forced upon him. At that moment Buffy couldn’t imagine anyone appearing more tired. Ending his speech, he thanked them for their efforts, told Buffy she was forgiven, and asked them to leave.

Back in the TARDIS, Martha excused herself to go soak in a tub and collapse in her bedroom. The Doctor went wordlessly to the console, seeking calm by shifting knobs and dials. Buffy shimmied up and climbed into the rafters. Her hammock and training ropes were still in place, as were her collection of clippings. She’d found lots of Dawn look-alikes, and a few Xanders. Giles had been easy, (though the Doctor claimed that he looked suspicious) and there was even a pair that could pass for Willow and Spike (frighteningly, the models were lip-locked, but she tried not to let that get to her). Angel proved more difficult, but then, he always did. This nest was her safe and private place away from the Doctor and this whole alien universe.

“Buffy?”

“Yes?” She dropped down to the console room floor. He still wasn’t looking at her. “I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ is worthless. But I am.”

“I know.” He adjusted another switch. His voice sounded dead to her. “I know that you find the endless talking bits boring. But now do you see why I do it?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“People died because I didn’t listen. Died screaming.” She looked down. “It sort of got my attention.”

“It would.”

Buffy hesitated, not able to look at him as she said, “If you want to send me to Earth now, that would be okay. I’d stay quiet. No more accidental stabbings or civil wars.”

“Dammit, Buffy.” He punched the console. “You know I couldn’t do that. If you’re retiring, you’re going to a distant moon at the end of the universe, and you know it.” He rubbed his sore and abraded knuckles with his other hand. “I don’t want to be your jailer. But you’re too much power that isn’t supposed to be here.”

“I see.” Buffy hadn’t noticed that she’d backed into a column. “You aren’t my jailer. I’m not some mad dog you either chain up or put down.”

“Then bloody act that way!” The Doctor slammed his hand into the console again, this time he screamed. “Bloody stupid -- gyahh.” He fell into a crouch. Buffy approached him slowly.

“Let me see it.” The Doctor glared at her, then gave her his hand, which was turning a lovely shade of purple. He winced as she turned it over, though he hadn’t broken anything.

Martha entered the room, attracted by the noise. Observing the scene, she asked “Nothing broken?”

“No.”

“Is Buffy staying?”

The pair looked at each other, then simultaneously gritted out, “Yes.”

“Good then. I’ll go get him some ice. You two finish up your shout.”

Buffy helped the Doctor back to his feet. “You need to start paying attention, Buffy.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t do second chances.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’ll accept this one as an honest mistake.”

“Thank you. I am… I want to know what I can do to fix things.”

“Nothing, Buffy. There’s nothing. We’re not welcome there. The Tisnalian war will now rage an additional decade, who knows how many more will die? And you’re going to have to live with that.” Martha arrived with the ice, and Buffy wrapped it around his hand. “Thank you, Martha.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to bed now. Please keep it down, Doctor.”

“Sorry, Martha.”

“And, Buffy, I’m glad you’re staying. But no more civil wars, okay? Especially no more picking them with him?”

“Sorry, Martha.”

“Okay then. Right. Sleep.”

They watched her retreat, then Buffy noticed she was still holding the ice to his hand. She drew away and ascended the rafters once more. “Buffy?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“You do.”

“I do what?”

“Learn to live with it. When terrible things happen, and you happen to have helped them along. Eventually, you learn to live with it.”

Buffy swallowed, keeping her head turned to the wall. “Yeah, I know.”

“Yeah. I guess you would.” He gave a curt nod. “Get some sleep. I think we all need it.”

She climbed into her hammock, and he clutched the ice tighter around his hand, and the engines of the TARDIS pulsed in silent witness.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy was standing next to the TARDIS as Martha exited. “So you’re leaving, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you know, saved the world once now with help, I think it’s time to try the hero thing on my own for awhile. See if I really am that good.”

“At least one of us was useful. Whereas I was all kinds of corpse-y.”

“Aw, Buffy.” Martha clutched the girl in a hug. “You came back. You always come back. Gives me a good example.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Doctor, hovering behind the doors, and set Buffy back. “I will call. And you take care of him, and make sure he comes back.”

“He won’t need me to make him. See you soon.” And Buffy slipped inside the TARDIS. The Doctor fiddled at the console without acknowledging her presence. She wondered just how that goodbye had gone. With a sigh, she climbed into her nest to nap while he settled his thoughts and their destination.

Some time later, the Doctor warned her, “We’re setting off.” Buffy dropped down to the ground. She liked it up there, but she wasn’t suicidal.

“Where’re we headed?”

“Oh, I was thinking ice skating on the moons of Luss? I figure we could both use some relaxation, and you enjoyed it last time we were there.”

“Last time we were there Martha and I wound up dressed up like Princess Leia in Return of the Jedi and you were nearly burned at the stake.”

“Eh, you rescued me, we all liked the skating, and I thought you looked more like Xena.” Buffy smiled at him as he winked at her and threw a heavy lever. She approached him around the console.

“Okay, and we can do a return visit to Cinnerdian after that. Now _that_ was an outfit. You look so cute in fur underwear.”

The Doctor chuckled and peered at Buffy under his arm. “I thought as much myself.” He shifted a few panels away from her. “Of course, the claw-toed slippers were a bit much.”

Buffy sidled next to him again. “And the three pound gold medallion?”

“A bit flash, yeah. But it was no Champion’s Amulet, that’s to be sure.”

Buffy went red while the Doctor moved again. “I was going to return it I swear. I know, treasure of an impoverished planet, but they were so insistent. Take me to Texmex five, right now, I’ll bring it back. It’s just, y’know, so shiny.” The ruby encrusted medallion, which she had wrested from an alien with a distasteful number of facial tentacles, was hanging on a hook in her nest, and Buffy only tried it on every couple of weeks… days… hours.

“That’s Teclexhecfivven, and you can keep your trinket,” Buffy relaxed until he added, “For now ,” and her shoulders slumped.

“It’s not as much fun quipping without an audience,” she grumbled.

“Oh come on, I’m an audience. I mean, I’ll miss Martha-“

“Not as much as she missed you. Even when you were here.” The Doctor went silent. “I’m not as smart as her, you know.” Still nothing. “And she was better at saving the world than me. Didn’t have to spill an ounce of blood. Just went around talking to people. And people respected that enough to believe in her. Now that’s magic. Being good at beating up things, that gets you killed by the Master. “ She frowned. “Twice. Next time we meet someone who calls himself the Master I’m just going to hide in here, okay? And warn me if you see any Glories.”

“Buffy-“

“Sorry. Just… I know you can’t change your feelings, but you could have been nicer to Martha. That’s all. Honestly, first I watched Xander, now you…”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, which made Buffy walk up to him and stick her finger in his chest.

“Well, I mean, you, you’re just so damned high and mighty most of the time. ‘The Last of the Time Lords’? Try ‘One Girl in All the World’ why don’t you? Or even just normal human being. You’re not the only lonely one, you big drama queen!”

“Hey, you had Kendra and Faith—“

“Kendra died, Faith went bad, and then I got to slide a knife in her gut.” Buffy poked for emphasis.

“She survived.”

“What makes you think the Master hasn’t?”

Oh, he hadn’t expected that line, and jumped back from her, arms raised.

“I burned his bloody body!”

“Like your body means so much to you guys! You change it when you like. My sister only wishes she had my body to bury!”

The words came out more acid than she intended, so Buffy softened her expression. “Some of us don’t get normal lives or deaths. I’ve gotten so used to it, when offered normal I say no. I just don’t fit there anymore. But it drives me nuts that someone who claims to love humanity so much can’t cope with the things that make us human.”

The Doctor rubbed his face with his palms. “Buffy, I can’t. You know I can’t. Hell, you even know why I can’t!”

“Because you’re going to outlive us? Lame excuse. Nine hundred years running away from anything that even looks like love? Some life.” She sighed and turned away from him. “I wish you could meet Spike. I’m not saying this right, and he has this bizarre talent for truth in these kinds of situations.” She slumped against the wall and after a moment he sat next to her.

“All right. A little bit more human?”

“Yes please, Doctor.”

“Okay.” He put an arm around her shoulders and she tucked her head beneath his chin. “The worst part of the last year, worse than the dog house, worse than the decrepit body, worse than the Master’s taste in pop music, was not knowing if, when we destroyed the paradox, you were going to come back to us.”

“You missed me?”

“Very much.”

“Oh.” He gave her a soft squeeze. “I’m glad I came back.”

“I’m glad you’re almost as bad at dying as Jack is.”

“Yeah. Did he leave a phone number?” His response was a glare, for which she tickled him, then he trapped her arms with his other hand. Buffy let this slide and rested her head back on his shoulder. After a few moments they both relaxed again, and the Doctor’s expression grew somber.

“I mourned you, you know.”

Buffy groaned. “Don’t say that. I was getting used to the idea of not being dead anymore.”

“But I did. So, I know how your friends at home feel like, and I know how you feel about that, and I get it. I understand.”

Buffy stared down at the Doctor’s hands around hers for a few moments. “I’m not sure they have the same hope that I’d come back.”

“Of course they do! Your friends, I mean, from what you’ve said, I’m sure they’re keeping an eye out. Like you said, some of us don’t get normal lives, and we don’t get to rest in peace. I would watch out for you forever.” He smiled down at her, and her eyes were wide and her mouth agape.

Then Buffy kissed him.

And he found that he rather liked it.

For most of his life, the Doctor had been a bit squeamish about this sort of thing. When you’re conscious of the movements of the planets and spend your life listening to the cosmic harmony, you’re equally aware of every millimeter of tongue sliding across tooth, gum, lip, and cheek, saliva mixing, temperatures raising, heart rates increasing, mucous membranes producing and if you think about it too much, it was easy to be disturbed by the entire process; at the moment, however, Buffy tasted like a Cadbury Caramel bar, which she must have snagged after saying goodbye to Jack and Martha and she had only been joking about wanting Jack’s number hadn’t she, because heavens knows that women and men alike seemed to-- but that train of thought melted away as her fingers crept into his hair and he discovered that while he was thinking earlier he had pulled her onto his lap, and she still didn’t weigh enough to be as strong as he knew she was but her tongue was taking slow, clockwise laps around his mouth while her fingers were making tiny counter-clockwise circles in his scalp and wouldn’t she make a marvelous drummer in a rock band? Must try to keep up with her then, slide his hand up the back of her leg, show her a little bit of what a determined Time Lord could do, let her feel the Earth move, or the TARDIS in this case, or even make time stop and was that her other hand at the small of his back…

They stayed like that for some time.

Buffy broke the kiss, smiling. “See? Humanity. The gooey parts are the nice parts.”

The Doctor’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open and a small grin in place. “Like a Cadbury Caramel.”

“Exactly.” The Doctor’s arm still hung loosely about her waist, and Buffy squeezed one hand as she broke his hold and stood. “You should take some time to enjoy the gooey stuff. If you want to understand us humans, you should take an interest in our greatest fascination.’

The dopey smile widened and he gazed up at her. “I’ll show you the universe, and you’ll show me the gooey bits?”

Buffy feigned shock. “Heck no. You haven’t even asked me on a date.”

“Sure I have. Ice skating. Tin bikinis. Fur pants. Sounds better than a night in Vegas.” He rose on slightly shaky legs to offer her a hand. “We’ll have fun.”

~*~

“Good evening, Buffy. This is London, 1793. King George III isn’t mad at the moment, but give him a few years, he’ll be back, and you colonials have been independent well nigh on ten years. Meanwhile, in France, the guillotine has hit the fan.”

“Lovely. Are we here to rescue the Dauphin?”

The Doctor twirled to face her, his jaw dropped.

“Willow had a thing for that Scarlet Pumpernickel guy.’

“Pimpernel. Pumpernickel was Daffy Duck.”

“Yeah, him.” He seemed frozen. “Oh come on, close your mouth, it’s not that surprising.”

“Yes, well, the Dauphin bit was a shock, but it’s more the you-in-nothing-but-your-knickers bit which has me at a loss.” He swallowed, then squeaked, “You’re gonna catch cold.”

“In the TARDIS? And it’s not like there’s anyone else here to see me.” She walked to him, got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “But maybe you should help me get dressed before we go out?”

“Help. Dress? Yes. Good plan.” She led him by the hand back to the wardrobe, where, after some brief negotiations, he helped her into a sensible outfit that wouldn’t attract too much attention in 18th century London, while allowing for plenty of legroom. Of the many trips she’d taken with the Doctor, perhaps a dozen times she hadn’t had to knock someone out. Once she didn’t even need to run away from anything. But she liked the period costumes; she liked watching the Doctor blush in the mirror as his fingers were oddly clumsy at doing the tiny buttons on the back of her dress. He hesitated as he finished, before kissing her softly on the nape of the neck, still blushing as he met her gaze in the reflection.

She smiled at him, took his hand, and they dashed to the console room and the TARDIS doors. Outside of those doors were cliffs and a smallish if bustling port town and the sun was about an hour from setting over the sea. “I don’t see the Thames, Doctor.”

“Hmm…”

“How far off were you?”

He shrugged. “Not too bad.” He scratched his head, studying the scene.

“Ah. I see. Please define ‘not too bad’?”

“Well, Ireland. That’s the River Corrib, so, Galway. Ships in the harbor are a little too early, so call it maybe four hundred miles and forty or fifty years? Which in the grand scheme of things is barely off at all. And the countryside looks lovely. Shall we explore?” He offered her an arm, which she accepted.

“If this turns out like the last time you tried to take me to the Olympics, I will be very unhappy.”

“Aw, come on, the Bay of Pigs was exciting.”

Together they strolled down the paths towards the city, which had that smell of all cities prior to indoor plumbing and automobiles. Buffy considered herself a champion horse apple dodger. The people, like most people, were too preoccupied with their own lives to pay attention to the Doctor’s commentaries to Buffy on the Jacobite rebellions and their effects on this city, which was apparently was having a rotten string of luck at the moment. The muck in their path preoccupied Buffy and also a nagging thought that she knew something about Galway that the Doctor didn’t, if only she could remember what.

The nagging thought bumped directly into her, pushing her feet and hem into a pile of horse manure. “Pardon me, Miss.” Buffy froze at the voice, knowing just what she would see if she could bring herself to look up.

“Are you okay, Buffy?” The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, as she was able to turn to watch her first love turn into the pub down the street.

“Depends on your meaning of okay.” Buffy stared at the door, until the Doctor put himself between her and it, and lifted her chin up to him.

“Did I miss something?”

“Yes. I need a drink. Can we get a drink? No, not there, somewhere else.” She led him back, to a pub she’d seen on the outskirts of town. The phrase “Ohshitohshitohshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit,” occurred to her. The Doctor got her a glass of wretchedly tawny port and himself a cracked glass of what was politely referred to as whiskey. Buffy swallowed the syrupy wine and grimaced, burying her head in her arms. The Doctor passed her the whiskey, which followed the port in quick succession, and was succeeded by a coughing fit that almost attracted the attention of their fellow patrons.

Almost. “Just a case of the vapors,” the Doctor murmured to no one in particular. He’d been admiring some of Galway’s architecture and looked down in the street, only to see Buffy a few steps behind looking... well, he wasn’t exactly sure. Sort of nauseous-panicked-stunned-excited-longing. He decided that yet another reason there was such a gap between human and Time Lord intelligence was that humans devoted so much brainpower to simultaneous feelings. Now the whiskey had taken charge and her nauseous look had taken over. “So, do I need to ask?”

“Angel,” she croaked, and understanding dawned in his eyes as she continued to recover from the whiskey. “Well, Liam. He could be Willy in this world for all I know. But it was him.”

“Ah. The Scourge of Europe, love of your life?”

“A little thicker. A lot drunker. Un-scourgey. Mine was twenty-six when he changed. That guy was maybe thirty? So he lived. He’s probably married. That’s what should have happened. I’ve seen those eyes in a hundred photographs. Must all be his great-great-great-great-great-greater grandchildren, all with those eyes. Even a couple with his shoulders. Maybe a couple from kids he didn’t even know about. Do you think he loves her? I mean, I don’t know, he always told me he never cared about those noble girls, but what about the bar maids? Did he care about the bar maids?” She examined the glass. “I’m sorry, your whiskey is gone.”

“That’s fine.”

“Do you want some more?”

“No, do you?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, Doctor. I’m sorry.” Some sort of further meaningless apology stuck at the back of her throat, and she moaned, taking his hand to lay her cheek down on it. It smelled of wool and mechanical grease and electricity and sweat. It smelled like the Doctor, who in no way smelled like Angel, whose aroma was grass, leather, and soap. Both of them were pleasantly cool to the touch, and the Doctor cupped his palm about her face that eased the burning feeling beneath her skin which had started when she’d seen Angel-Liam and had only grown worse with the alcohol.

“It’s okay, Buffy. I mean, this sort of thing is bound to happen in inter-dimensional time travel. You’re handling it quite well, really. For one, you didn’t go chasing after him. That showed considerable restraint, I think.”

“There was this very strong ‘chase after him’ urge,” she admitted.

“And, I can tell, you understand that he’s not the man you knew in your world.”

“Well, he’s not a vampire. And he’s two-hundred and fifty years younger.”

“It’s amazing how a quarter of a millennia of soulless slaughter can change you, it’s true. So all in all, I think you’ve passed this test of character with flying colors, and I’m rather proud.” The Doctor squeezed Buffy’s hand as Angel set three new glasses of whiskey down from behind them and sat between the pair.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I felt I owed a slightly more sincere apology t’the lady for soiling her lovely dress, sir. Name’s William Kirwin, and may I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance?”

Buffy’s eyes bugged out of her skull, and the Doctor stood to defend her honor. Normally, she’d have been amused at him thinking she needed defending, but at the moment all of this seemed to be happening to some other person, who was nodding at William, asking her dear friend the Doctor to please sit down, introducing the pair, and proposing a toast to chance acquaintances. William was a few pubs into an extensive pub crawl, and she let him talk about his business and the shipment of indigo which would surely cement his fortune and the bastard English who kept trying to restrict the trade, no offense intended sir- Doctor, sir; none taken, if you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air; and Buffy sat and sipped as William apologized for this state the English had driven him to, but that was no excuse for rudeness to a lovely couple such as she and her husband - not her husband? No, no wife his self, widowed three years now and childless. But how long would she be in town, for he felt obligated to show a colonial his beloved homeland. But Buffy, we have to go now, sir, you’ve more than made up for any perceived rudeness, but it is quite late. M’lady. Sir. Sir. Then she found herself escorted to a dismal room, sitting on a thin but mercifully clean mattress.

“Well, that could have gone worse.” The Doctor kicked his sneakers off, and took Buffy’s shawl for her.

“That umm, sparkage thing with him. Nice to know it wasn’t just a fluke. Could have just been the hair though. He did always like little blonde girls. Darla. Me. Kate. He killed dozens of them that one spring.”

“Yeah. Little blonde girls. They can be trouble.” The Doctor finished removing Buffy’s boots and set them beside the bed.

“He looked good. Sounded good, good spirits. That might have been the whiskey. I’m sure he didn’t mean to squeeze my arm so hard.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Buffy laid down, facing the candles, not really acknowledging the Doctor as he hung his jacket, snuffed the light and laid beside her. After a few minutes, he couldn’t resist, and wrapped his arms around his companion’s body. The Doctor felt her heart racing in still silent panic, so he stroked the hair at the nape of her neck, whispering, “Sleep.” And she did.

She didn’t move for five minutes after she woke, until the Doctor tossed an apple at her, which she caught. “Good morning.”

“Nnnnf.”

“Really?” He polished the apple that remained in his hand, considered it, then set it on the table. “So, do I need to hang around?”

“What do you mean?”

“You miss your friends. We found one. Do we need to hang around? Do I need to go? It’s your choice. Tell me what’s going on.”

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, shaking her head. “He’s not my friend.”

“I don’t think you believe that.” Buffy watched his left eye twitch just half a millimeter.

“You’re upset.”

“No, I’m just realistic, Buffy. You’re faced with the opportunity to settle down with the man you love, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof, and it looks like you’re still attracted to one another. I won’t stand in your way. I’m happy for you. I just want to know what you want.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. His eyes shifted around the room, settling on escape. “I should go.” The Doctor headed towards the door, only to find that Buffy had thrown herself at him, kissing him with passion he could only respond to in kind and he was powerless as she pressed him into the door, picking him up under his bottom and carrying him back to the bed. His shirt was shredded, his tie and jacket disappeared and his hands held together by one tiny hand while somehow he was divested of his shoes, trousers, and pants, and still she pressed him down, pressed herself against him, her tongue and hands and legs occupying his every possible thought as she reminded him that genius or no, Lord of Time he might be, but she was the Slayer, and physically, he could only hope she’d let him keep up. She was utterly and completely overwhelming.

And she wanted him.

Her arguments were quite convincing and for once in his life, he wasn’t going to fight. So he smiled as she feathered kisses over his neck and chest afterwards, every one a gift he would treasure across time, twirling his fingers in her hair. One kiss landed on his lips, and her smile was as honest as he could hope for. “I decided.”

“Oh? I think I may have got your point. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t want me to go?”

“No. I… Angel. He was my first love, and nothing will change that. You know I love him. But that man will never exist here. Plus, dumping me in an age pre-indoor plumbing? No thank you.”

“Well, I mean, I can’t exactly blame you. And I wasn’t going to say anything, but he’s a little Cro-Magnon looking, and a little Cro-Magnon acting, and-”

Her lips stopped his speech. “Don’t push your luck. Anyway, what it came down to was that I couldn’t love anyone else in this world the way I love you.”

“You love me?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve known that for awhile now.”

His eyes widened as he pulled her closer to him. “No, I hadn’t. Cared for me. I knew that. But I didn’t know if you were just lonely and I was just… there.”

“No. Maybe at first it was a little bit of you were the man who made everything okay after I arrived. Some of it was you reminding me how to enjoy life again. But, silly Doctor, traveling with you, being with you… I haven’t been lonely for a long time.”

“Oh.” The Doctor considered this. He thought of his lost friends and family, of Rose, of the eternity of wandering which would continue long after Buffy was dust and ashes. He felt every supernova as a personal loss, but at that moment, in bed with a beautiful Slayer wrapped around him, he could focus just on how she made him feel, and concluded:

“I don’t feel lonely either.”


	4. Chapter 4

They never stopped running.

Their journeys were legion, as were the worlds and lives they saved. Their bodies aged, though his somewhat less than hers. Jack teased the Doctor about settling down, and flirted with Buffy every chance he got, even as she entered her seventies. They returned to Earth to play with Martha’s children, then the grandkids. Others came and went as the Doctor and the Slayer passed through, policing time and space.

Of course, they bickered, they disagreed, she died again on four separate occasions; he dumped her in the Selachia system for eighteen months to teach her a lesson about thinking before acting only to return to find she’d become a warrior queen; she left again a decade later when they disagreed over mercy and second chances, only to beg him for help rescuing her new home in the Silver Devastation while they fell in love again; the Master returned, several times, and life never approached anything normal. But for sixty years, it was mostly good.

Now she was sick, and he was terrified.

Buffy was never sick. But over the past few weeks, it had been as if she was fading out of life. Eighty years in a human body meant more than eighty for a Time Lord (people would now ask if she was his mother, and once, to her great amusement, his grandmother), yet she’d remained vital, time taking its toll only reluctantly: a line here or there, the silver of her hair, a figure just that much thinner, skin that grew ever more translucent. Every morning she still managed the same workout he’d watched her do nearly every morning for decades. He convinced himself that her Slayer healing meant she would be able to stay with him longer, that the end was not so inevitably nigh. In his tenth incarnation he would soon be a thousand years old, and he would meet that landmark with her at his side.

But then it started. Her mind would wander. Her strength would be there, then not. And the headaches: Buffy had had deaths less agonizing. Not one hospital across time or space could explain her condition. Over the past two weeks it all intensified, and as he nursed her, he began steeling himself for the end, and wondered if he would be able to say goodbye.

This morning he awoke to find her not in bed. It had been five days since she’d last struggled out. He put on his dressing gown and searched the TARDIS, finding her in the console room. “You’re up,” he said, with a hopeful smile. Her eyes held his gaze, and to his relief they were lucid, and she was smiling at him, and relief washed over him as he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held. Buffy beckoned him with a tiny finger, and he joined her by the monitor.

“It found me.” The panel showed a massive surge of power piercing through space-time. The Doctor couldn’t contain his shock as he examined the readings.

“What?! No, no, no. It’s not the same thing at all. That was a sledgehammer. This, this is like a hypodermic needle. What the hell is it? What do you mean that it found you?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that these past weeks, I’ve felt pulled. Stretched like a piece of gum. Now that the TARDIS is here, I’m fine, but the pull is incredible, Doctor. I’m not sure, but it feels familiar. I think it may be Willow. I think she may have found me.”

“No. No. There’s no way to get that power. And it’s been sixty years. You belong here. You’re going to stay with me and you’ll get better, and we’ll take a vacation in New New New New New New New New New New New New New San Diego. We’ll go to the beach, and I’ll tell you all about my days at U.N.I.T. and you’ll feed me Jelly Babies and tease me about the huge fool I make of myself at karaoke night and it will be just as beautiful and perfect as it ever was.” He pulled her closer to him.

“I don’t think we have a choice. We hardly ever do. But I love you, Doctor. I always loved you.”

“No. No. You wouldn’t let me go. I won’t let you. We’ll be light years away in a second.”

“I don’t want to either. But I already feel lighter.” The Doctor watched in horror.

“You’re phasing out of this dimension! You knew? But you didn’t – you were going to let me sleep through it?”

“Shhh, we only have a few more minutes.” Her eyes took on that dreamy look they’d been locked in so often lately. “I wonder what eighty-year-old Willow will look like? I’ll get to see my sister again. It’ll be nice. My farewell tour home.” Buffy stroked his cheek as he clutched her gown, which remained solid.

“I’ll follow you, and I’ll make the farewell tour with you. I won’t let you go without me, Buffy.”

“What galaxy are you going to sacrifice to punch through? I remember, Doctor, remember every damn thing you’ve ever told me.”

“Liar.”

“Coward.” She phased out completely for a second, and then returned. “Oh, Doctor. It’s so dark!”

“Buffy-”

Then she kissed him, and in that instant he memorized again the feel of her mouth and of her body as it pressed against him. And just like that, he found himself embracing the air. Her clothes piled at his feet as they fell through his fingers. The monitors read nothing out of the usual, just the TARDIS drifting through an unremarkable field of space. Later, the Doctor would calculate that it had been the position of Earth one day in the year 2001. But for now he groaned, and buried his face in her pajamas, reveling in the smell of her. After a few minutes he returned to the bedroom they had shared, replaced the clothes in the closet, and returned to bed.

Tomorrow he would get out the ladder and dismantle her nest in the rafters. He’d seal off this bedroom and move to another. Perhaps he would regenerate, and find some new adventure for his new self. Time marches on, so too must Time Lords.

Today he’d mourn Buffy Summers yet again. But he’d never stop looking for her.

~*~

It was so dark. From the arms of her love, she opened her eyes with a gasp, and saw only darkness.

Afterwards, after the coffin and the demons, Spike told her it had been one hundred forty-seven days and now a whole other lifetime lay in front of her. She felt cheated.

Once the Doctor had explained that, though he was the last of the Time Lords and could regenerate as many times as he desired, he believed there would come a time when the idea of another lifetime would be too exhausting, and he would finally let Death and surcease take him. She’d told him he was too vain to ever give up like that, and they’d made love and she’d hadn’t understood what he meant.

Now she was huddling away from the sunlight and her no-longer familiar friends of her youth, her returned youth, and poor Spike was staring at her with his puppy dog eyes, and he reminded her of the Doctor in those early days, when he treated her like some sort of holy artifact from another world, and it already felt as distant as a dream. Her heart broke again. She had to tell someone.

“I was happy. I was at peace. I was loved, and I was complete.”

Her throat closed. How could she explain the Doctor or her life with him?

“I think I was in heaven.”


End file.
